It all started when I was 14. I was hanging out with some friends on the block, when one of them ask me if I wanted to try crank.
“Why not,” I said to him. I was always a curious kid, back then.
I did it a few times and liked how I felt on it. The adrenaline rush was an awesome feeling. It felt like I was going a hundred miles an hour while standing still.
I really got heavy into it from the years of 16 to 18. We’d party all night long doing rail after rail. The funny thing about it was- we always ended up at one of our friend’s places just talking and drinking. I didn’t drink much back then, because I preferred to be amped. Downers just brought me down. I found the buzz suited me better.
When I got out of the Army at the age of 19 I began drinking heavily. The army broke me so much, I was physically carried in my house for about 6 months. I’d get so drunk I could barely walk. My grandma used to tell me that I wasn’t the same person when I got home from basic training. I remember times when my cousin would wake me up at about 1 am or 1:30 am to go and buy beer and whiskey. We’d drink all night.
It wasn’t until I was 20 that I eventually started doing crank again. That’s when things began to change. It began by selling my things to find the money for drugs. When that ran out, I would go to my grandma and ask for the money. She was my enabler. She never knew why I needed it. I’d lie to her, get the money, and be back a few days later to ask for more.
Soon, life took me to Vacaville, CA where I got a job on a golf course as a grounds keeper. It didn’t take long before my addiction found me again. Every weekend, I’d travel to San Jose just to party and find that high. That consumed the next 6 months of my life until I finally moved back to the source. I lived there for a couple of month till I almost got busted for selling coke. I remember going to a friend’s place and hearing that one our friend’s dad found out I sold to her. He reported me to the police and later that day we packed up and left town.
Red Bluff was a small town, but the drugs were ramped there. You could find just about anything you wanted to get high, but Corning, Ca was the meth capital. I stayed high for the 8 years I was there. There was no down time. I still didn’t think I had a problem. I looked at it as I was just having fun with my friends. I worked solely to feed my habit. At least I wasn’t asking grandma any more though.
Things really got crazy in 95’ when I met my now ex-girlfriend and she introduced me to her cousin Greg. He was another enabler and an addict too. I hung out with him all the time and had a blast wheeling and partying. There was a point when we drove around in a stolen car for about 6 or 7 months. I think about it now and man, the trouble I could’ve gotten into with him. I started smoking dope with he and his girlfriend. You would think that someone, anyone would have warned me about my habit back then. As quickly as I was spiraling, I was a prime candidate for an intervention of some kind. Like most addicts, though, I surrounded myself with other addicts. Since my friends were getting high with me, no one took the time to tell me to stop.
I met his dealer and started buying straight from him and started doing hot shots. I found that heating the end of the glass straw before snorting the line added a new sensation I’d yet to experience. I started having panic attacks and thinking he was giving me bad shit. What I didn’t think about was how many days I had been awake and that was the cause for my hallucinating and panic attacks. I wasn’t eating much either. In retrospect, the malnutrition couldn’t have helped much either.
In September of 1998, I met someone who inspired me to want to drive truck. I had always wanted to travel. This was my chance to not only get paid to travel but to do so with trucks which I’d always loved. Excited, I ran to the unemployment office right away to get funding to go to school. I remember not being able to sleep for weeks. I mean I did sleep, but not for more than a couple hours a night. I’d wake up sweating some nights. It’s been 18 years since I last did meth and I still get the urge sometimes, but I know where that road leads and I’ve promised myself I’ll NEVER go back to it.
The Hangry Ginger